Past, Present, Future
by karmachameleon2010
Summary: Spoilers for season 1. Set approximately 6 months after series finale. Neal tries to deal with the aftermath of Out of the box, while helping Peter catch a dangerous criminal.
1. Chapter 1

This if my first fanfiction of any kind so please be gentle J I only knew fanfiction existed a few months ago, and when I got sucked in by White Collar, I thought I'd give it a go myself.

Sorry it's so short, I'll try to make the other chapters longer.

I'm from Ireland, and have tried to use the American versions of certain words, but if I have any mistakes let me know. Thanks

I do not own White Collar or its characters.

* * *

Peter took another sip of his coffee and stole a quick look at his watch without Hughes noticing. It was 9.15 and Neal was late - again. He tried to concentrate while Hughes briefed them on their latest case, but his mind kept drifting back to his partner and whether anyone else, though mainly Hughes, had noticed his absence at the meeting.

"I need you to find out where he is and what else he's involved in," Hughes said. "We lost a good man over this and no one was ever held accountable. We have to make it right." A murmur of agreement went up from the team, as they rose from the table and headed to work.

"Burke! Hold on a second, I need a word," Hughes barked. Jones, the only remaining agent in the room picked up his pace as he headed out, pausing only to give Peter a nod in sympathy at having to hear the same old "Where is Caffrey" speech.

"Yeah, boss," Peter replied, pulling his phone from his pocket to check if Neal had at least left a message or a voicemail this time to let him know he'd be late. He gratefully shoved it back in his pocket when he looked out the office door and saw an impeccably groomed, well dressed Neal rushing out of the elevator.

Turning back to Hughes, he said, "If you're going to ask me about Caffrey, he had an appointment this morning and was held up. I should have let you know earlier, but it slipped my mind, sorry. He should be in any minute now if you need him though."

Hughes arched his eyebrows at Peter, letting another blatant lie slip past. " Really? It would have been useful to know, so we could have rearranged the debriefing. We'll need him on this case. Make sure you get him up to speed. And more importantly - make sure you keep an eye on him. It was difficult enough to get him reinstated, and I don't want to give my superiors any more ammunition." Hughes shook his head as he left, no doubt recalling the long, difficult investigation after Project Mentor came to light.

Peter headed to his office to find Neal sitting at his desk, hat in his hands and apology already on his lips. "Peter, I'm so sorry. I got caught in traffic and - "

Peter interrupted him, his voice soft but firm. "You walk here, Neal. And even if you did catch a cab, you only live 1 mile away, and would have been here an hour ago."

Neal went quiet, his mouth set in a firm line as he contemplated what to say. This was one of the changes Peter had noticed in the recent months. Neal was lying less- at least lying less to Peter. In all the time they had been working together, Neal rarely told Peter a direct lie, he just gave him details and let Peter infer the lie himself. However, in the past two months Neal had been trying to be less deceptive, less cryptic. Well, as much as the great Neal caffrey could be. And if it involved emotions, or, god-forbid, Kate, he still reserved the right to spin a yarn.

"I did take a cab, Peter," he replied. "Just not from my apartment. And I really am sorry I'm late. Did I get you in trouble with Hughes again?"

Peter looked at Neal again and tried to keep the pity from his eyes. Neal was, as usual, nicely dressed in a crisp grey suit, hair neatly combed and was clean shaven, yet he still looked rough. He had lost a lot of weight off his already lean frame, his skin was incredibly pale and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him. If Neal hadn't taken a cab from his apartment, Peter knew it was likely he had been visiting Kate, as he had done many mornings before.

"Never mind," Peter said. "But don't let it happen again or it's my ass on the line next time. And would it kill you to call and let me know."

He swatted the back of Neal's head with his file and Neal visibly relaxed.

"Did El catch her flight ok?" Neal asked as Peter stifled a yawn.

"Sorry. Yeah she did, I've been up since 4am to see her off. I sent her with my apologies to her parents but they're pretty understanding people." Peter was many great and wonderful things, but being able to tell a decent lie was not one of them. El's parents were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in Florida with a huge party, which Peter would not be attending. He claimed the recent economic downturn made it difficult to take his holiday leave, when he was really just concerned about leaving Neal alone since Mozzie was out of town.

"Peter, you're putting off social engagements to hang around with me - your concern is beginning to creep me out." It would almost be cute if it didn't make me seem so pathetic, Neal thought.

"Don't flatter yourself. Keith still hasn't recovered from his car accident and Hansen's on maternity leave. There's just no room for holidays at the moment." He hoped Neal didn't see through his transparent lies, but truth be told he wasn't sure if Neal was ready to be left alone for a weekend with no one keeping tabs on him.

"Thanks, Peter," Neal replied.

"Besides, someone needs to stay with Satchmo. Come on, lets get some more coffee and I'll fill you in on the new case. We really need you on this one."

"Don't you always," Neal smiled back, and they headed out into another warm summers day.


	2. Chapter 2

I was going to try making Neal's visiting Kate ambiguous ( was she in hospital, dead, jail?) but then I thought why bother, that explosion was pretty final : )

It will probably be a while until the next chapter, because I'm having trouble writing it and figuring out where its going. The first section here is a flashback, but I couldn't get it to stay in italics!

I don't own white collar or its characters.

* * *

_The first few days after Kate's death were the hardest. Neal had shut himself off from everyone. He rarely spoke, he didn't eat and he never cried. He spent his days either answering questions from the FBI and OPR, or walking through the city, visiting places that were special to the both of them, reliving the memories of moments he would never have again, feelings he would never have again, the love he would never have again. He spent his nights drinking himself numb enough to almost forget, before the nightmares woke him from his sleep and the guilt became all too real again. _

_The others looked out for him as best they could, Peter, Moz and Jones joining him in the bars at night, encouraging him to go home to the people who cared for him, the family that still loved him. Neal could see the pity in their eyes and hated them for it. Neal Caffrey, who had for so long been an enigma and mystery, reduced to "the poor guy who lost his girlfriend, don't you feel sorry for him?". He had spent his life hiding behind aliases, behind a mask that only Peter and Kate had penetrated. Now he felt that the mask was shattered, and he was vulnerable and exposed for all to see._

_And so he ran. The day of Kate's funeral, he left a card on his table with only the words I'm Sorry written on it, and this time said goodbye to no one._

* * *

_Neal and Peter sat in their usual spot in the far corner of the coffee house by the window. It gave them a great view of the city, but more importantly it gave them a good view of the café doors and who was entering and leaving. After the events of the past year, they realised you could never be too paranoid. The shop was busy with office staff and college students taking advantage of the free wifi but at least it would make it difficult for people to listen in to their conversation._

_They ordered two coffees and two scones, though Peter knew Neal had no intention of eating his as usual._

"_You really need to start eating, Neal. You're fading away. Plus, El will kill me if she finds out if been eating for two. I had to move my belt out a notch this morning." Peter smiled as he spoke, though Neal continued to pick at the food without eating it._

"_Hey, you're the one that keeps ordering the two scones, Peter. Besides, you still look good. Just ask Emma who's been staring at you this whole time." Neal flashed Peter his trademark grin, while Peter subtly looked at Emma, the waitress who had served them, as she leaned against the counter, head slightly tilted, one hand on her waist and the other playing with her necklace. Peter could almost convince himself she was flirting with him. _

"_Why do you think she always gives you the bigger scone?" Neal chuckled at himself and Peter giggled along, happy to see a reminder of the old Neal, back when Neal's biggest problem was finding which hat to match his suit. _

_Peter pulled a surveillance photo from his pocket, passed it to Neal and filled him in on their latest case. The photo showed a dark haired man and a woman standing by the main counter in a jewellery store. The man was placing a ring on the womans wedding figure, gazing at her adoringly while the shop assistant looked on. The woman had her back to the security camera, but was of medium height and blonde haired. The man, fortunately for the agents, was facing the camera directly. He was approximately 6 foot, wearing a dark suit that made even Neal jealous, and, Neal had to admit, was ruggedly handsome._

"_These two have been posing as a couple shopping for wedding rings. They get the assistants to open the cabinets, then they each pull out a gun and rob the place. They've hit 3 jewellers, and have made off with around $100, 000 so far. "_

"_Peter, to be honest this sounds like a barn door robbery. Why are we involved?"_

"_Because of him," he said, tapping on the guy in the photo. "His name is Demetri. We don't know his last name, hell, we aren't even sure if Demetri is his real name. We were after him 18 months ago, just before you joined. We suspected him of making fake bonds, but we couldn't pin anything on him. So, we sent a guy in undercover. Paul Marks - he was a good guy, a great agent. He was working with Demetri's team making the bonds, trying to pin Demetri as the ring leader. What we didn't know at the time was that Demetri was quite the thug,." _

_Peter swallowed with difficulty, the emotion becoming thick in his voice, but was pleased to see the Neal was focused on his every word. _

"_One day Marks stopped reporting in. When we showed up at Demetri's warehouse, the place had been stripped bare. Marks body was found two days later in the Hudson with two bullet holes in his chest. We had no intel on Demetri after that from anywhere in the US or Interpol - until these robberies."_

_Peter tapped the photo again and took another sip of his coffee. _

"_But why go from bond forgery to stick-em-ups? He didn't even attempt to hide his identity in that photo - he's obviously not afraid of getting caught."_

"_I'm going to catch him, Neal," Peter said, his voice rising in anger. "I swear to God, I will catch him." _

"_Whoa, Peter, calm down. I know you can catch him - you caught me twice." Neal winked at his partner, hoping to lighten his uncharacteristically dark mood._

"_I caught you three times. Sorry, Neal. I'm just sick of guys like him , guys like Fowler, thinking they can do what they want and get away with it. Demetri's probably been lording it up around Europe or Brazil while Mark's widow had to pick up the pieces." _

_Neal looked out the window, trying to suppress another memory and emotion that he didn't want to deal with right now._

"_So what do we have on him at the minute?"_

"_Nothing but three security photos and fingerprints that we already had. We've got nothing to link him to an address, we can't identify the girl, and his old associates are either dead, haven't seen him since the last time or are to afraid to talk at all. I mean this guys dangerous, cocky and he's doing all this for the kicks, for the thrill of it."_

_Peter rested his head in his hands and for a moment Neal thought he was crying. "It was one of my first cases as agent in charge, and someone got killed."_

"_Peter, " Neal said softly. "I for one, literally owe you my life. I know I might not have shown you my appreciation for saving me, in fact if I remember correctly I kind of hated you for it. But you're the best agent I know, and you're the most decent man I know. Granted, I don't really keep great company in general. But you can not believe that Marks death was your fault."_

"_We should have had more surveillance on him. Maybe, if we had done more research. If we had of known he was so violent - "_

"_If I hadn't given Fowler the music box Kate would be alive. Or if I didn't stop to answer you, I would be dead. Three Ifs don't make a right, Peter."_

_Peter was taken aback by Neal's unexpected openness. He knew Neal blamed himself for Kate's death, but they rarely discussed it, with Neal basically shutting down anytime the conversation came up._

"_I think you mean three wrongs don't make a right." They sat in silence as they finished off their coffee and settled the bill. _

"_We better head back, we've got a lot of work to do." Peter sighed. _

"_And for what it's worth, I'm glad you did stop when I called you. Don't know what El would do without you buddy." And Neal smiled sincerely for the first time since Kate had died._


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who's read the story or reviewed it. This chapter is a little longer but was more rushed, and everyone seems a little OOC here.

There is a flashback scene which again, may not have shown up in itialics but it's separated anyway!

I don't own White Collar or it's characters.

* * *

The summer heat had begun to wane, though it was still ridiculously humid as they made their way back to the office, and Neal had been forced to remove his hat and use it as a fan.

They met Jones and Diana in the conference room, and settled in for a long day.

"Let's go over what we have," Peter started. "We have Demetri on tape. We have evidence to hold him, once we find him. But, that's the problem, we have no idea where he is, where he goes after the robberies."

"He doesn't show up on any CCTV outside the stores?" Neal asked.

"You can see him on the camera that's just outside the store, but he planned his escape routes to avoid the majority of them. You can track him for about 10 foot from the store door, then he disappears. We haven't identified a vehicle and we can't identify the girl."

"What about her? What's her relationship like with him?"

"The assistants in the jewellers all said the same thing - they look and act like a real couple, but they thought the girl seemed to be having some reservations about getting married," Jones answered. He passed around the statements of each of the workers involved. "She never said anything specific, they just felt that her heart wasn't in it as much as his was."

"Well, that's something at least. Maybe the woman's the weak link. If we find her, she might turn easily and give up his location, " Diana said. "Nina Johnson, the jeweller whose shop got robbed yesterday is in with a sketch artist at the minute. The first two jewellers were in too much shock, they barely remember their own names."

"I'd like to talk to her," Neal said quickly. "See if there's anything else she remembers. Couldn't hurt, right?" He honestly wasn't expecting to gain anything new, but he suddenly just needed to escape this room.

Peter eyed him suspiciously. "I suppose not. Hell, I'll join you. You two keep going with this, make sure his picture's out in every high-end clothing store, jeweller, and gallery. He has expensive tastes, hopefully he'll want to splash out on something."

He caught up with Neal in the corridor, heading to meet with Nina. "Is there something going on here, Neal? You're awfully keen to meet up with this witness. If you know anything about this guy, or this case, now's the time to come clean?"

Neal looked at Peter in disbelief. "Peter, I was in jail for two and a half years before this guy even showed up on the scene. Before today, I had never seen or heard of this guy before. And no, I don't know anything about this case, other than what we've mentioned in this past hour. I just needed a break, it was getting really stuffy in there."

Peter had the sudden realisation that the talk of false love and betrayal might have hit too close to home for Neal, and had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry, I shouldn't just assume. It is really humid in here."

They waited until Nina had finished with the sketch artist before entering the small office. Nina Johnson, according to her file was seventy-two years old but looked at least fifteen years younger. She was small, and slightly built, with fierce, intelligent green eyes. Her white hair was cut in a neat bob, and she had an almost regal quality about her.

"Mrs Johnson," Peter extended his hand to her as he introduced them. "I'm Agent Peter Burke, and this is Neal Caffery, he's a consultant with the bureau."

Nina withdrew her hand from Peter's, and her face paled slightly, a quiet, "Oh, my" escaping her lips.

"I often have this effect on people," Neal muttered to Peter, smiling.

Peter, in turn glared at him. "If your head gets any bigger, you're gonna need a bigger hat."

"Are you ok, Ma'am?"

"Please, don't call me "Ma'am", it makes me feel so old. Nina will do just fine." She took her seat and the colour returned to her cheeks.

"Forgive me, I was just a little stunned to hear your name, Agent Burke."

"Call me Peter. Do I know you from a previous case, Ma'am - sorry, Nina?"

"No, Agent Burke. I think that two cases would make me quite unlucky, and I'm hoping once this case is solved, that I will never see you again." She smiled as she spoke, and Neal found that he was quite enamoured with her.

"You see, Agent Burke, when people are buying your merchandise, you make them feel important. You talk to them, listen to them. Particularly people shopping for wedding rings. They want to talk venues, bands, food. The man who robbed my store - he mentioned your name."

"Excuse me?" Peter stuttered. He exchanged worried glances with Neal, and urged Nina to continue.

"We were discussing his wedding, and he said his best man was his old fried Peter Burke, who he had not seen for almost two years. I'm afraid I didn't mention names and details to the police before today because I thought it was just part of his ruse. You know, that he'd been building a story to build up trust while I bring the rings out."

Her shoulder sagged and she suddenly looked her age. Neal recognised the look of guilt in her features, the same look he saw each time he saw his own reflection in the mirror.

"Nina, this is not your fault. Actually, it's a great help. Not many people would remember details like that, especially after everything you've been through." She perked up slightly, so Neal continued.

"Is there anything else you remember about your conversation, any details at all?"

Nina closed her eyes, trying to remember the conversation. "He said he hadn't seen you in a long time because you had had an argument over another friend. You had a hard time trying to find him again after that, but now he was going to make sure you enjoy your time with him. I thought it was rather odd that he was focusing on his best man rather than his bride."

Peter had remained silent for most of the conversation, and was now looking distinctly unwell.

"Thank you for your help, Nina," he eventually said. " I promise you this will be over soon enough."

* * *

Peter had been pacing furiously around the small conference room since they had spoken with Nina, muttering to himself and occasionally throwing files on the table. Jones was following up the other jewellers to see if Demetri had left any cryptic clues with them also, but they were too traumatised to remember much of what had been said.

Diana came bounding through the door, a huge smile across her face. Neal hoped she had good news, as a truly angry Peter was a rather scary Peter.

"Boss! Good news - we got a hit off that sketch Nina Johnson gave us. We ID'd the girl. "

She passed them both a mug shot of a beautiful woman with long dark hair and beautiful blue eyes.

"Her name's Rachel Andrews. This shot is from one year ago when she was arrested for a DUI. But apart from that there's nothing on her record."

"So either, she was a criminal that never got caught, or she actually was really innocent before this," Peter said. "But I have a hard time believing that she just suddenly turned to a life of crime."

"We all do stupid things in the name of love," Neal replied, and instantly regretted it when he received those now common pity stares. "Is there an address for her?"

"Her old address is still registered in her name, but when we ran the address, squatters seem to have taken over the place."

"We're going to head over there anyway. Maybe she was nice enough to leave us the address of where she forwards her mail to," Peter said sarcastically. "See what else you can dig up on her."

"Since you've perked up a bit, how about you let me drive?" Neal asked. "I was given my licence back 6 months ago and you haven't let me drive once."

"One - You haven't asked, and two - I've seen you drive and, frankly it scared me."

"I was driving fast because you were mistakenly chasing me after assuming I was going to rob that museum."

"You did try to rob that museum!" Peter replied exasperatedly. Neal was giving him the puppy-dog-eyes he'd long ago perfected, and found himself giving in. "Fine, you can drive this once. But take it easy, it's been a while."

Peter instantly regretted his decision when Neal slammed on the accelerator, and he clung to his seat for dear life.

* * *

_They had buried Kate beside her father. June and Elizabeth had made the majority of the arrangements as Neal had not really accepted that she had gone. They had searched for him when he disappeared the morning of Kate's funeral, but Neal was the master of deception, and would not be found if he didn't want to, and so the funeral went on as arranged. Jones and Diana were watching from a distance, hoping for a surprise guest to show, something to identify the perpetrators of the explosion. As it turned out, no one but Peter, El, June and Moz had attended, making Peter feel even more sorry for this broken friend. _

_Elizabeth and June tended to the grave for months after the funeral, keeping it presentable for Neal, for when he comes back, they had said optimistically. Peter was not so hopeful, fearing he had lost Neal forever. He had lost the love of his life, the one thing that had kept him going, and Peter feared that Neal would forever be a changed man, if he ever returned. _

* * *

They arrived at Rachel's address 10 minutes faster than Peter had expected, although considering Caffrey's driving they were lucky to have made it there at all.

Her registered address was a small apartment in a block of flats in a run- down area of the city, and they were surprised that a young woman like her would ever have lived there. Very few of the doors were even numbered and they had to ask three times before they were directed to the right property. Her apartment was on the 8th floor in the building whose elevator appeared to have been broken for quite some time, and they were exhausted when they reached her door.

The door was battered and the lock was barely functioning. Peter knocked the door and was greeted by a small, unkempt man with a wild beard, who wore a beanie hat despite the hot weather. From the smell that greeted them, the apartment had definitely been taken over by a group of squatters. Peter showed him the photo of Rachel but he denied having ever seen her and they had taped up their post-box and had never received any mail in her name.

"What a waste of time," Peter said as they made their way back to the car. He had not yet admitted it, but this case was getting to him. He hated being toyed with. Chasing Neal had been exciting, each of them trying to outsmart the other but basically being on the same level. But this time with Demetri he wasn't so sure he'd come out on top.

"Hey, maybe Diana will know more about her by the time we make it back," Neal replied. He noticed a small grocery store on the corner of the street, with an elderly lady outside scrubbing graffiti off her windows.

"Peter, see that shop? I'm guessing from the look of that woman out front she probably owns it or has been working here for years, cos I'm pretty sure no one else would bother to clean off the graffiti."

"There was another up the block that was pretty much the same. What's your point?"

"People like that usually know everyone in their neighbourhood, and everything that goes on. She may know our girl."

"Good thinking. I knew there was a reason I kept you around," Peter said with a smile.

"Do you wanna take the one up the road and I'll take this one - I'm better with the ladies, and we've to meet Diana at four pm."

Peter reluctantly agreed. He felt he needed to give Neal some degree of freedom since he worked for the Bureau as a fully employed consultant now, and wasn't tagged with the anklet anymore. Neal waited for a full two minutes after Peter had gone from his view before getting out of the car, just to ensure that Peter wasn't doubling back and checking on him.

He stepped out of the car and put on his jacket despite the heat, exchanging comfort for fashion as he usually did. He heard footsteps rushing toward him, but before he could turn around, he felt his face slam against the car, and felt the unmistakable feel of a gun pressed against the back of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone who has read or reviewed the story. I'm having serious writers block - this chapter in particular is very disjointed and everyone is OOC. I'm working a lot for the next week so it'll be a good while til my next update. Thanks

I don't own white collar or its characters.

* * *

Neal's face was pressed against the car, and he could feel someone pressing against him, keeping him in position, though they needn't have bothered, as Neal was very aware of the gun placed at his head. The right side of his face was aching and he could taste blood from the wound on his lower lip.

"This is the police! Put your hands on the hood of the car, slowly."

Neal did as he was told. "Officer, my name is Neal Caffrey. I'm a consultant with the FBI, I have an ID badge in my jacket pocket."

The police officer reached into Neal's jacket pocket and removed his ID. "Caffrey, huh? What are you doing in this part of town?"

"I'm investigating a case." Despite seeing his ID the officer still kept his gun pressed firmly against Neal's head and he was still pressed against the car with his back to the police officer "Do you mind putting the gun away? And maybe showing me some ID?"

The officer lowered his gun from Neal's head but instead pressed it against Neal's lower back.

"Officer Dawes, NYPD", he said, holding his ID in front of Neal's face.

"I notice you still have your gun out." Neal's bravado was beginning to fade and he was worried that things were definitely not right with Officer Dawes.

"What seems to be the problem officer?"

"Yous are the problem. I have a message for you." His voice had suddenly become disturbingly cold. "I want you to tell him that the girl is off limits. You hear me? The girl. Is off limits."

Neal was about to ask who the message was from when he felt a sudden pain in his head and his world faded to black.

* * *

Peter's trip to the small grocery store had not been a completely wasted journey, as the owner had instantly recognised Rachel Andrews photo but knew little else. George Marshall, a heavy set man in his early seventies had owned the store for the past twenty years, and was proud to tell Peter that he was handing over the store to his grandson next month.

Marshall had remembered the girl. She was a frequent customer to his store for milk and cigarretes, a filthy habit he had informed Peter, one that had taken his wife. Most occasions she was by herself but he had seen her once or twice with a man fitting Demetri's description, who appeared to be her boyfriend. She had worked in an office downtown, but lost her job like many others when the economy took a down turn. He had not seen her in six months and the last he heard was that she had moved out and her place had been taken over.

Peter had wished him well for his retirement but knew the man was likely to spend most of his time hanging around the store anyway.

He made his way back to the car and became distinctly aware of the silence and lack of commotion along the street that he had passed on his way to the store. He expected Neal to still be chatting up his potential witness , but was surprised to see that she had closed her shop, and that the small car park where they had left their car was deserted.

He rounded the driver side of the car to find Neal sitting on the ground, his back against the car, holding the bridge of his nose and appeared to be trying not to vomit. His phone was open in his hand and he seemed to be having difficulty pressing the numbers.

"Neal, what are you doing on the ground?" His suit was dirty, though Peter noticed that he wasn't wearing one of his usual Devore's.

"I was just about to call you, - if I could get this thing to work." Neal removed his hand from his face, and looked up at Peter's shocked face.

"Jesus, Neal what the hell happened to you?" He knelt beside his partner, and took the phone from his hand. "Have you called an ambulance?"

"No, Peter, I'm fine really. I'm just a little woozy." Peter ignored his protests and phoned for an ambulance and back-up anyway.

"Just try and keep still, Neal." He was developing a bruise around his right eye and his lower lip was cut and swollen, but Peter was more worried about his lack of coordination and his inability to press the numbers on his phone.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" Peter looked at Neal's eyes and was glad to see his pupils were equal.

"Just my pride and ego," Neal said, though in reality his head was pounding.

Neal filled him in on what had happened while they waited for the ambulance, though when he recounted his story, it seemed unreal, even to him.

"He must have pistol-whipped me. And then the next thing I remember is waking up, face down in gravel. And he stole my ID."

"I'll phone Diana, get her to run Officer Dawes name." Peter shook his head in anger. "If he wasn't watching us himself, anyone of those people we asked for directions could have been answering back to him. We should have been more careful."

When he felt that some of his anger had subsided, he called Diana and asked her to run Dawes name and badge number, which Neal had been able to recite despite only glancing at his ID and having the stress of a gun pressed against his back. Even though he had not seen his face, Neal was sure that it was Demetri that attacked him, using a fake police badge, but the sad truth was that Peter no longer trusted anyone since operation mentor, and couldn't rule out that Dawes wasn't another dirty cop.

He hung up the phone just as the emergency services had shown up. Neal had perked up since Peter found him, and really did not want to be fussed over. They insisted on taking him to hospital since no one was sure how long he had been unconscious for, so he in turn insisted that he was allowed to walk to the ambulance rather than on a stretcher.

"This is all a fuss over nothing," he said as he dusted off his suit before getting in to the ambulance. His eyes were more focused and his gait was steady which was a good sign.

"Yeah, but come, you love attention." Neal shrugged in response and gratefully accepted the pain killers he was offered before they set off.

Peter drove behind the ambulance to the hospital. He briefly filled Hughes in on what had happened, who informed him that there was a match for Officer Dawes name and badge number - a now-retired 86 year old cop who lived in a care home. It was more than likely that Neal was right and it was Demetri who had attacked him, and Peter cursed himself internally. Demetri bringing Peter's name up to random people was bad enough, but using his friends to get to him and relay messages was a step too far. Hughes was arranging for a detail to watch both him and Neal, and for once he was glad that Elizabeth was out of the city.

When he reached the hospital, he found Neal sitting lying on his bed looking distinctly irritated. His right eye was badly bruised, and the swelling of his lip had decreased. Peter was glad that he generally looked better, but he appeared to be in a foul mood, and although it was a rare occurrence, it was a bad time for anyone near him.

"I'm not staying here, Peter." Neal sat upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed as soon as he saw Peter.

"They've checked me out, they've scanned me and everything's fine so I am not staying for observation." Neal's voice rose and became angry as he spoke. Peter saw the determined look in his face and knew that no matter what he said, Neal was not going to stay.

"Just let me check with the doctor." He sighed as he left Neal to his thoughts.

The doctor confirmed what Neal had said. Apart from bruising and a busted lip, Neal was fine. They had scanned his brain and found no haemorrhage, but wanted him to remain overnight for observation. After a lot of coaxing and deal-making, it was decided that Neal would be allowed to leave but would be staying with Peter overnight. He was at home by himself anyway since El was away and at least, this way someone would be able to keep an eye on Neal.

They stopped by June's on their way back to Peter's, so that Neal could shower and change his clothes. He had had to throw away his suit, as the gravel had scuffed it beyond repair but he was glad it was not one of his Devore's. He recently had to buy himself a new collection of suits, as he had lost so much weight that none of June's had fit him anymore.

While Neal showered, Peter tried to busy himself with the case, but became frustrated at what little they had, as no one from Rachel Andrews neighbourhood was admitting to seeing Neal's attack or anyone suspicious in the area. He re-read the case file and threw it down on the desk, preferring to sit still in silence. He looked around Neal's apartment, suddenly noticing the small changes that had made June concerned.

June and El had become firm friends after Neal left, often meeting for coffee or lunch, and this continued on after Neal had returned. June was not the type to pry or gossip but Neal had become part of her family and after he returned, she had noted many changes in him that had concerned her. She had left his apartment untouched, hoping that he would return. But after he had come back, she had noticed that he had removed most of the art work from the walls, expensive books that used to be scattered around the room were stacked neatly on the shelf and the table which used to be covered in Neal's own sketches and origami sculptures was bare . Peter observed that any personal touches of Neal's had been removed and the room now resembled a very expensive, yet bland hotel room.

"Where'd all the paintings and art go?" Peter asked casually as Neal stepped out of the bathroom. Neal had showered and changed out of his dirty suit and appeared a lot better than he had just hours earlier.

"I'm having them reframed for June." Neal shrugged. Peter supposed this could be true, if Neal was getting it done as a surprise, though it didn't explain the rest of the room, or the fact that it had been six weeks since June had noticed they were gone.

"That's nice of you." Peter didn't push it any further and watched as Neal gathered a bag of clothes and toiletries and followed him to the door.

"Peter." Neal's face became serious as he looked at his partner. "I really hope you don't snore."

* * *

Peters final alarm went off and he dragged himself into the shower to get ready for another day. Neal had taken the guest room and Peter had got up religiously every hour to check on him as the hospital had instructed, and on each occasion Neal was lying there awake. He had only spoken about it once, but Neal had been suffering from alternating insomnia and terrifying nightmares since Kate had died. He had had a few sessions with a therapist as part of his agreement to rejoin the bureau, but Neal was Neal and he knew how to spin a tale without revealing anything at all.

He had heard Neal get up a few hours earlier and was pleased to find him making breakfast already. Neal visited almost every Sunday for lunch, often doing the cooking himself, so was no stranger to their kitchen.

"Morning, Peter." Neal laid the breakfast on the table, handed Peter the newspaper and got stuck in to his food.

"Hungry?" Peter asked. He suspected that Neal was making a show of eating and being so cheerful simply for his benefit, but as long as he ate, Peter didn't care.

"Starved. Peter, I'm sorry you had to get up all night. I probably should have stayed in the hospital - at least you would have got a good nights sleep."

"Nah, I couldn't sleep anyway," Peter lied. "How are you feeling this morning? Every time I went in to you, you were awake."

"I just have a finely tuned internal body clock, I woke up just before you came in each time." The dark circles under Neal's eyes suggested he hadn't slept much at all, but Peter let it slide, happy that Neal generally looked better and was a little more like the Neal he knew.

"And I'm feeling good today." Neal put his hand to his heart. "Though I am mourning for the loss of one fine suit."

"I'm sure you'll get over it. And isn't your closet full of suits anyway?"

They finished their breakfast and headed out to the car, with Neal insisting he was fit for work. Peter spoke with the cops who had been watching his house overnight but there hadn't been any unusual activity. They had a car watching June's too, though her own security system was high end anyway. He thanked them and sent them home, knowing that a protection detail is often a boring and thankless task, giving them a flask of coffee for the road.

Peter climbed into the car, waiting for Neal who'd suddenly decided that his hair needed a touch more product, when his phone rang. He flipped it open, and instantly recognised the voice on the other end of the line.

"Agent Burke, long time no see."

Peter started to get out of the car, so that he could get Neal to get a trace on the number.

"Hey, hey, hey, just sit tight buddy," Demetri laughed into the phone. "Or I'm just gonna hang up."

Peter froze, and looked around him but couldn't see anyone watching him.

"Where are you? And how the hell did you get this number?"

"I'm close by, that's all I'll say. Damn, those cops are diligent - they never even took a toilet break all night! And your number - I got that from your little buddy when he was out cold on the ground. How is he? I checked him out, you know. Art thief. Forger. Prison bitch. And the only person who could catch him was the illustrious Peter Burke. You really like to go for the big ones, don't you Pete? You mind if I call you Pete?"

Peter let him ramble on, praying that Neal would stay in the house in the off chance that Demetri had a gun trained on them. He kept his voice calm and tried to regain control of the conversation.

"It would be best for everyone if you handed yourself in. We can make a deal - "

"No can do Pete. I gotta hang up now , just in case you're trying to get a trace on this call. But I just need to check that you got my message. Leave the girl alone. If you go after my people, I'm going after yours. And that would be unpleasant for everyone."

With that he hung up the phone. Peter sat in stunned silence until Neal finally left the house after fixing his hair.

"You ok? You're gripping the steering wheel as if it's gonna run off?"

Peter released his grip and then punched the wheel in frustration, the car horn blasting loudly.

"We have a problem."


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks again to anyone reading or reviewing the story. This chapter seems a little (A LOT!) contrived but I needed to get from A to B and had run out of ideas!

I don't own white collar or its characters.

* * *

_It was four months after Kate's death, after Neal had ran, when Peter got the phone call._

_Operation mentor had been investigated extensively. People had been fired and people had been reassigned. Peter himself had almost resigned, sick of the back-stabbing and double crossing that had cost Neal the love of his life and caused him to run. It was only a few well spoken words from El that had kept him there. _

_Neal was a free man, and so the bureau had no interest in finding him, though that didn't stop Peter from trying. He had used all his connections in the force to check if he'd taken a flight, or if he'd used any of his old aliases or credit cards, but they all came up empty. Mozzie had been surprisingly helpful, knowing that at least when Neal had tried to run the first time, it was for Kate, but now he felt his friend was running scared and lost, but he too came up with nothing. Neal had become a ghost. _

_At two am, four months after Neal had ran, Peter got a phone call from one of his contacts to say that the sheriffs department in a small town in Ohio had accessed Neal's file after running his prints. He kissed his wife goodbye, who in turn wished him luck, and jumped on the first flight to Ohio._

* * *

As soon as Peter got to the office and had a secure phone line, he phoned El. His smart, beautiful wife instinctively knew something was wrong from the tone of his voice, so he basically told her the whole story, knowing that she would could tell if he was sugar-coating it.

"Just a few days extra, then everything should be sorted. I just wouldn't want you caught up in the middle of this."

He had persuaded El, with great difficulty and a few helpful words from Neal, to stay with her parents for a few days extra. He had faced a few dangerous criminals before he joined the white collar crimes division and had the odd personal vendetta against him, but there was something about Demetri that set him on edge and he wanted his wife away as much as possible.

"This will be fun to explain to my mother. As long as you promise to take care of yourself. And eat right. You always get take-out when I'm not around to cook for you."

"I'll learn to cook something amazing for you coming back."

"Just take care, ok? I love you, sweetie."

"Love you too, El." His words hung in the air and he hoped he would get another chance to say those words face to face.

* * *

The tension was high in the office. Hughes was worried that the case was going to go south like their previous pursuit of Demetri, and wanted to take Peter off the case, arguing that Demetri seemed to be playing to Peter, he liked the chase and had threatened Peter and his family. However, he was desperate to get Demetri for the murder of Agent Marks, having been close to the young agent before his death, and had allowed Peter to remain lead investigator since Demetri had contacted him and they had little else to go on.

They had been unable to trace the call since Demetri had used a pre-paid mobile which was now switched off. A search of the area around Peter's house had not revealed any evidence or signs of a stakeout position, but Hughes had arranged for him to stay at a hotel with a protection detail posted outside anyway. Neal of course decided that he himself would be safer in June's.

They had spent the day following trails that went nowhere. Rachel Andrews had left her office job the same time she left her home. They had hoped that one of her co-workers might have remained in touch with her, but it appeared that she was not the friendliest of people, and no one knew her outside of work. They had been unable to trace any of her family, and she had not used any credit cards in her name for 4 months. If Peter hadn't seen her on the CCTV images, he would have had no trouble believing she had either died or didn't exist.

They had worked late in to the night before eventually realising they had gotten nowhere and headed home. Peter had driven Neal to June's and watched until he was safely inside before heading to his hotel room. Neal had offered to let him stay at June's but they had had such problems the last time they decided to be roomies, and neither of them needed that hassle at the minute.

Peter finally reached his hotel room well after midnight. Hughes had arranged for a protection detail though Peter felt it was unnecessary, but he would admit he did feel a little safer knowing there were two police officers outside his room.

He had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the door handle move, and he sat up rigid in bed and went for his gun. He had almost reached it when a young female voice warned him off.

"Don't event think of it, Agent Burke, or I'll shoot you right now."

Peter did as he was told and sat up straight in the bed. He heard the door click shut and the intruder flicked on the lights. The most shocking thing to him was that the gun was being held by Rachel Andrews. Her long blond hair hung freely around her shoulders and she wore a white shirt and black slacks similar to those worn by most of the hotel staff.

She lifted Peter's gun from the bedside table and put it in her waistband, all the time keeping her own gun trained on Peter.

"Where are my officers?" Peter suddenly realised he hadn't spoke with either of them in over an hour and prayed that they hadn't been injured looking after him.

"They were called away. Police officer was shot a block from here - all available officers were needed." Peter looked at her suspiciously but she held up her free hand, feigning innocence.

"Hey, don't look at me. I was just gonna taser them, but they made my job easier for me so I'm not gonna complain."

"So are you here to hand yourself in?" Peter asked. He was dressed in only his boxers and his undershirt and felt incredibly self-conscious, never mind the fact that a gun was being pointed at him.

"Not exactly." She paused and looked intently at Peter. "You look like a guy I can trust, someone who keeps his word." She pulled the small chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"I'm here to make a deal. I give you Demetri, and you let me go. I have a lot of details and evidence that can put him away. God, you don't even know half the stuff he's done."

"Why the hell would I believe you, when you came to my hotel room with a taser and I have a gun pointed in my face?"

"I could hardly go straight to your office, could I? I'd have been arrested immediately, and would have to bargain for a reduced sentence. This way, I still hold all the cards. All I want is for you to talk with whoever, and make sure I don't go to jail at all. I'll leave you my number and you can call me and let me know if we have a deal." She smiled sweetly at Peter, who began to wonder if the time of night was affecting his judgement, as he couldn't help but smile back.

"And how are you gonna hand Demetri over? Are you gonna sweet talk him into handing himself in, cos we aren't having any luck finding him."

" I can lead you to him. He's kind of in love with me, and he trusts me, so it should work out." She appeared regretful and Peter hoped she wasn't having second thoughts. He didn't like being forced to make deals with people, but they had nothing else to go on. She quickly stood up and pulled a pair of handcuffs and a business card from her jacket.

"Hands up against the head board, Agent Burke." She dropped her business card on the table and began to handcuff Peter to the bed.

"I** gotta run before the cops come back but there's my card. Call it tomorrow at 12 exactly, cos that's the only time that phone will be on."**

**She placed a piece of tape across Peter's mouth and moved his phone across the room, and placed his gun back on the table, but still out of reach. She stopped just before she left the room and turned to face Peter.**

"**You probably think I'm some kind of evil bitch, handing over my boyfriend for immunity. I thought he was nice, I thought the danger was what I wanted, but it really wasn't. And Demetri……well, he's just a bona fide psycho."**

* * *

**Peter sat at his desk and drank his fifth cup of coffee. He had not slept all night and was now running on empty. The officers who had left to help their fallen colleague the night before had checked on him on their return, and since then he had been giving statements and trying to arrange the deal for Rachel. **

**They had finally agreed on giving her a free pass in exchange for leading them to Demetri, and Neal, Peter and Hughes were gathered in the office as Peter made the call. They all hoped this would be the end but Peter wouldn't even let himself consider the possibility until they had Demetri in a cell.**

"**I should warn you that I'm hanging up in sixty seconds, so be quick." Rachel's voice seemed nervous and Peter hoped she hadn't been found out.**

"**We've agreed to your deal. All the paperwork is here ready to be signed. You just have to lead us to Demetri."**

"**I'll need to read over the documents first, to make sure you aren't double crossing me. I'll be bringing my lawyer."**

"**That's fine. Are you sure Demetri isn't suspecting anything?" **

"**No. I know he's a good actor, but I think we're ok." Peter heard the ding of an elevator through her phone. "And I'm already at your office."**

**Peter looked out his office door to unit foyer and spotted Rachel and another man exit the elevator. **

"**I was confident you would take my offer." Her lawyer held out his hand to Peter, though Rachel herself didn't offer the same courtesy.**

"**I'm Michael Winters, Miss Andrew's attorney. I'll be dealing with her offer and ensuring she doesn't get screwed over." Peter and Hughes let out a collective sigh, while Neal stood in the back watching intently. He had been instructed to watch Rachel for any signs that she was conning them but so far she seemed legit.**

**They slogged over the details of Rachel's evidence and her deal of immunity from prosecution before both sides finally agreed a settlement, and Rachel gave up Demetri's location. He had left his apartment that morning but he rarely returned home during the day, so they were holding off on raiding his apartment until after they had caught him, in case someone warned him that the police were about and he went in to hiding. However, Rachel did know that he would be at one of his warehouses down by the docks that night, and this was where they would finally get him.**

**There was a nervous energy in the office, with everyone hoping they would finally get justice for Agent Marks after all this time. They had discreetly scouted the area and a SWAT team was being arranged. Rachel seemed relieved when she signed the documents and had agreed to protective custody until Demetri was caught and was currently in a safe house downtown. But now all they could do was wait until tonight, and Peter was finding himself increasingly impatient.**

"**You ok?" Neal had been fussing over him all day, seeming to forget that he himself had been knocked unconscious whereas Peter had only been embarrassed and handcuffed in his boxers. **

"**I'm just tired and wired. I really wish this will be over soon so I can go back to my own bed with my wife." He tried to stifle another yawn but failed, and apologised.**

"**You need coffee. Good coffee." Neal seemed to think coffee was the answer to all life's problems, but Peter pointed to the six empty cups on his desk that he had already drank, not to mention the glasses that had already been washed.**

"**The coffee house across the road sells a brand almost the same as June's. I'll grab you a cup. And a muffin." He stood up and grabbed his jacket despite Peter protesting that Neal wasn't the coffee guy anymore.**

"**I know. But I really want a frappucino, and the coffee in here stinks." He smiled at Peter, who had began drifting off to sleep and left the office quietly.**

**It was late in the afternoon and the sky had clouded over. For the past week it had been bright, and unbearably hot and humid, and Neal hoped the change in weather today was not a sign of things to come. He had just crossed the road when a van pulled up beside him. **

"**Mr Caffrey." Neal stopped as Demetri climbed out of the van, showing Neal the gun tucked in his waistband. "If you'd like to come with me, I can make sure none of these poor innocent people get hurt."**

**He pulled open the door of the van revealing a large, tattooed man with a chilling smile on his face. Demerti placed his hand on the butt of his gun, and Neal took his cue to get in to the van. The door slid closed behind him and he struggled as someone shoved a rag against his face. He could smell the sickly sweet odour of the chloroform as he tried not to succumb to its effects, before he could struggle no longer and for the second time in as many days he drifted into unconsciousness.**


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry, this was part of the last chapter but I kind of missed it out.

I don't own white collar or its characters.

* * *

Neal could hear mumbled speech as he regained consciousness. He remembered someone placing a rag over his mouth, and the smell of chloroform. The smell still lingered around him and he felt nauseous. He tried not to move which would have been difficult anyway, as he could feel rope around his wrists and ankles tying him to the chair.

He heard footsteps coming towards him and he feigned unconsciousness. He felt someone hold his face and slap him, though surprisingly lightly and gentle.

"Come on, Caffrey. I know your faking."

Demetri began slapping him across the face with increasing force, and Neal slowly opened his eyes.

He quickly scanned the room he was in which appeared to be a small windowless warehouse or storage unit, complete with old boxes, overturned furniture and cobwebs. Two large tables were pressed against one wall and the door appeared to have a recently replaced, heavy-duty lock on it. Demetri stood in front of him, peering down at him with concerned eyes, and in the corner of the room sat the tattooed man from the van, a larger, more muscular version of Demetri, with tattoos covering both arms, the entirety of his neck and his right temple.

"You had us worried there, sleepy head. Took you a lot longer to wake up than it takes most people." Demetri shook his head, and pointed to a table which contained a few brown glass bottles, a large chunk of rope and a rucksack.

"But then again, I did use more chloroform on you than I would for most people. Didn't want you getting away."

He pulled over a chair, sitting opposite Neal and lit a cigarette. He held the packet up to his friend in the corner, who shook his head and declined the offer. Neal wondered if he was just the silent type or if he was afraid to speak around Demetri.

"Sorry about the shiner. It seems to be healing nicely." He pointed at the injury he'd given Neal by impersonating a police officer. "But I guess that's the least of your concerns right now."

Neal remained silent, partly because his throat felt dry and raw, and because he needed to tread carefully around Demetri, because he was sure Demetri was partly insane. Demetri finished off his cigarette, blowing out a last puff of smoke. Neal only smoked when a con required it, and he hated how the smell lingered on his clothes afterwards, but right now he felt he could use something to take the edge off.

"You know, I'm an old fashioned kind of guy." Demetri got up of his chair and leant against the wall, and nodded at his friend in the corner who then began to rummage through the rucksack.

"I treat my mother well. I'm loyal to my friends and family. And I keep my promises." His tone had changed and his eyes became distant. His friend had found what he was looking for in the bag and was now standing beside Demetri holding a large knife.

"I told Pete not to come after Rachel, or face the consequences but he obviously thought catching me was worth more than your lives. I'd be flattered except now my girlfriend is in jail! " He was shouting now and pacing around the warehouse.

"Hey, your girlfriend came to us voluntarily - she gets immunity and you get life. So technically Peter didn't do anything wrong." This earned Neal a punch in the stomach and he began to feel dizzy.

"Well she didn't look happy to be shoved in to the back of that police car. Rachel would never hand herself in. She just wouldn't." He seemed genuinely heartbroken at the thought that his girlfriend would betray him, and Neal almost felt sorry for him before another punch in the stomach brought him back to reality.

"Damn, that hurts," Neal muttered while gasping for breath. He toyed with the idea of offering to help Demetri make a deal with the DA for a reduced sentence but he knew Demetri wouldn't go down without a fight and so kept quiet.

Demetri had stopped pacing and had lit another cigarette, though he didn't offer one to anyone this time. Neal began to wonder how he knew Rachel had even been at the bureau, and Demetri seemed to read his mind.

"It was just luck that I was there. I was just scoping the place out, keeping a good eye on my bud Peter, when I saw them leave with her. I would've followed but I'd sent Frank here to get some supplies."

He pointed over his shoulder at the tattooed man who nodded at Neal and gave a smile that sent chills down Neal's spine.

Demetri seemed to remember something and walked up to Neal, bending down so that he was at eye level. He squeezed Neal's thigh gently and Neal tensed in his chair.

"What was prison like, Neal?" He spoke so quietly and gently that Neal wasn't sure if he had spoken or Frank had. He didn't get a chance to answer though, before Demetri continued.

"A skinny little pretty boy like you must have had a rough time of things. Am I right?" He abruptly stood up and began whispering with Frank. Neal was grateful that he didn't have to answer. His first few weeks of prison had been some of the worst weeks of his life, with the exception of Kate's death. He was a chameleon by nature and had been able to blend in with the crowd, but that didn't stop him having three broken ribs and a broken arm by the end of his first week, and narrowly avoiding becoming someone's prison bitch. After he had helped some of the more respected inmates figure out new ways to get cigarettes, drugs and other wanted items into the prison, he was generally left alone, unless someone was looking for his help.

Demetri and Frank finished their hushed conversation, and Demetri was now headed for the door, chuckling as he went.

"We're still gonna have to hurt you Neal, since your friend broke the deal." He continued chuckling and Neal became very unsettled. "Fair's fair and all that. But don't worry- we won't kill you, cos I need you as leverage for getting my lady back. But unfortunately for you, Frank here, is feeling like he needs a little loving."

Frank smirked and Neal suddenly developed a cold sweat.

"So, I'm gonna go find out where they moved my girlfriend to and leave you two love birds alone. It'll be just like jail Neal - except no one has to hang a sheet up this time."

Demetri quickly left the room before Neal could make any protests, and locked the door behind him. Frank dragged his chair over to the table and began cutting the rope binding Neal's right wrist to the chair.

Neal began rambling to Frank, trying to make a deal while he cut the rope. He'd help Frank make a deal, the FBI were bound to find them soon, he'd give Frank the address to his stash of art, bonds, and sculptures that was worth millions. When Frank had ignored all that, he continued talking anyway, telling Frank that he was better than this, that he knew he was a good person inside, until eventually Frank responded.

"Will you please shut the fuck up? God you're one annoying SOB. Usually when he tells them I'm gonna rape them they cry and whimper, but God do you like the sound of your own voice."

He had finished cutting the rope and held Neal's right arm, stretched out against the table.

"He was just fucking with you. That's what he does -screws with peoples minds. And I'm no rapist." He seemed offended at the thought and Neal started to relax a little.

"But unfortunately I do have to hurt you." And with that he smashed a hammer into Neal's right hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks again to everyone who read/reviewed this story. The ending seems a bit tacked on, but I'm running out of ideas here!

One of my reviewers said I was using too much narrative, so I've tried to address that in this chapter, and hopefully it'll flow better.

I've kind of started a new job, with horrible working hours, so it'll be a good while until my next update L

I don't own white collar or its characters.

* * *

At first Peter thought he was still dreaming. He was sleeping peacefully for the first time in days, so when his office was invaded with people shouting at him about coffee and a kidnapping, it took a him a moment to realise that they were talking about Neal.

"Everyone, stop talking. I can't understand half of what you're saying." Peter sat upright in the chair, and tried not to look as tired as he felt. "Diana, do you want to explain what the hell's going on."

Diana stepped forward, the calm amongst the storm, and Peter realised just how much he had missed her when she'd been in Washington.

"We got a call from the coffee house across the street, the one Neal likes." Peter vaguely remembered how Neal had offered to get him coffee and he'd been too tired to properly object that that place was ridiculously expensive, which was why each day they walked a few blocks to one that wouldn't break the bank.

"The owner happens to be a fan of Neal. She saw him crossing the street and watched him get stopped by a man in a van, who had a gun. He put Neal in the back of the van and drove off. She knows he works for us, so she called us."

"Dammit, Neal. We could've done without the coffee." Diana loaded up a CCTV video, showing Demetri load Neal into the back of a van and drive off, though the licence plates of the van were obscured.

"I'm gonna guess that the van disappeared and we have no idea where Demetri went?"

Everyone answered him with silence and Peter's tiredness turned to despair. Demetri had obviously found out that Rachel was at the FBI, and assumed that she was arrested, rather than turning snitch. Peter could almost hear him, _"I gave you fair warning. You go after mine, I'm going after yours_."

"What about Rachel?"

"We checked on her. She's still at the safe house, but we're moving her to another just to be sure," Jones answered. He pulled a clear evidence bag from his pocket and passed it to Peter. "But we still have her phone with Demetri's number in it. We couldn't track him but it still seems to be active."

Peter thanked them and dismissed most of the team, only Jones and Diana remaining behind.

"What about the warehouses Rachel gave us?"

"There's been no movement all day. Wherever he's gone with Neal, it isn't there." Jones rubbed his eyes, concern etched on his face. He and Neal had become good friends since he'd joined the bureau, and had been one of the few people Peter trusted to help find Neal when he'd ran after Kate's death, and when Neal returned he was also one of the few who didn't treat him any differently.

They joined Hughes in the conference room to discuss their options. They needed to make contact with Demetri but Peter knew that Demetri would want Rachel back and they couldn't give him that. They needed time to figure out a plan but it seemed their luck had run out, and Rachel's phone began to ring.

Peter flipped it open but remained silent.

"Rachel?" Demetri's voice was so soft and full of concern that Peter almost didn't recognise it.

"No, this is Agent Burke. I'm afraid Rachel isn't able to take calls at the minute."

"I told you Burke. I told you to leave her alone." He was angry but he appeared oddly detached. "Where is she? I want you to hand her over."

"She's in the custody of the FBI, and I'm afraid I can't do that. She's -"

"Fuck you, Burke. I want her back, you hear me?"

"I didn't go after her. She handed herself in to the FBI. Doesn't that tell you something? She wants this to be over. The best thing for you to do is to give me back my agent, and hand yourself in."

Demetri remained silent for a long time, before answering.

"No Pete, I don't think I will." He sighed as though disappointed with himself. "Remember I've got your little friend Caffrey as my get out of jail free card. I'm gonna phone again later and you're gonna have Rachel ready to be released, or I'm gonna put a bullet in Caffrey's head."

Peter was relieved that Neal was still alive but a chill went up his spine when Demetri spoke again.

"I don't know how you put up with him. He's a whiner. Do you know who much he cried when we cut his fingers off? I mean it was only two fingers." He laughed into the phone. "Did you get my package yet? I didn't bother putting them on ice cos its probably too late to reattach them, but thought you might like them as a keepsake. I'll phone in two hours."

He hung up the phone and Peter punched the wall in frustration.

"Sir?" One of the new interns had entered the office and passed Peter a small box. "This was just delivered for you. It said urgent on it."

Peter read the label and almost dropped the box on the table. It was addressed to himself from Demetri, and as Peter shakily tried to open, it he fought the urge to cry for this friend.

* * *

Neal had had enough. He was a lover, not a fighter, and despite his rotten childhood, cons gone wrong and a jail sentence, he had not developed any techniques for staying calm under torture.

He was sure most of the bones in his right hand were broken, and three fingers on his left hand definitely were, and were now sitting at odd angles to the others. Between the intense pain, the swelling and his inability to use half of his fingers, he had not been able to wriggle free of the ropes that bound him to the chair. Then again, he thought, it didn't matter, as he was so small and in such pain that he wouldn't be able to take down the ginormotron that was Frank.

He was unable to see his own reflection, but he was sure that his face was beaten beyond recognition. His left eye was swollen shut and his right eye was very blurred. He had spat out a loose tooth after the first punch, but his mouth still continued to bleed. He was sure he had broken ribs on his left side, and his breathing had become shallow to avoid the sharp pain that shot through him. Thankfully though, his legs had been left virtually untouched, and he hoped he would get the chance to make a run for it.

Neal braced himself for another punch when Demetri walked in to the warehouse, interrupting Frank's momentum. He looked at Neal's battered and bruised face and smiled.

"I knew Frank was the best man for this job." He slapped Frank on the shoulder and motioned for him to take a break. "They're gonna have Rachel ready soon. Then you can go back to your stupid little life, with your stupid little team. Or you can join my team if you want, we could use a guy like you?"

"Screw you." Neal spat out a mouthful of blood as he spoke.

"Then again I suppose your team needs you again, now that they're another man down." Neal looked up and tried to decipher the lies from the truth, while Demetri shrugged at him. "Attractive looking African-American gentleman? A little slow to draw his weapon? Didn't get a chance to ask his name before I shot him, but the way they cried over his demise, he must have been one of the good ones."

Neal chose to believe that Demetri was lying. Jones was a good friend to him, and he refused to believe that he was dead unless he saw a body or heard it from Peter.

Frank and Demetri whispered in the corner. In any other circumstances, Neal knew he would have been able to eavesdrop or lip-read their conversation, but at the moment he could barely see and was struggling to remain conscious. He was drifting off when a slap across his face brought him back again.

"Get him ready." Demetri said, nodding to Frank, as he took out his phone. "Its almost showtime."

* * *

Peter was relieved to find that the box Demetri sent him only contained a small, untraceable phone, and thankfully no appendages of Neals. They had had no leads from the box and the two hours Demetri had given them were almost up.

When she had been moved to a different safe house, Rachel had been told about their new situation and had volunteered to hand herself over to Demetri. They assured her that they didn't negotiate or pay ransom, but as Peter left her, he could still hear her insisting to the others that she would be the only way.

The phone Demetri had sent rang exactly two hours after he had hung up.

"Hello, Agent Burke. I take it you received my package." He laughed and Peter imagined himself punching that smug grin off his face.

"What do you want Demetri?"

"Straight to business, now? You must be pissed off." Peter could hear a chair scraping on a floor before Demetri spoke again. "I want Rachel. I want you - you, Agent Burke, no one else - to take her to the 42nd street subway station. When I spot you, I'll phone again and make the exchange."

"We can't do that. We don't -"

"We don't negotiate. Yeah, yeah I've heard it before. But if you want Neal back, you will."

"Let me speak to him. We need to know he's alive." Peter held his breath while waiting on Demetri to answer. There was a lot of shuffling and grunting, before anyone spoke.

"Peter?" Neal sounded weak and terrified. "Don't give him what he - " There was a loud groan from Neal and Demetri came back on the line.

"I'll be at the subway in 20 minutes. If you're not there, Caffrey dies."

"God dammit." Peter shouted as Demetri ended another call, still holding all the cards and calling the shots. The silence in the room was interrupted by a familiar but unwelcome voice.

"I don't think God can you help you." Rachel said as she walked into Hughes office. "But I can."

"How the hell did you get past the security?" Peter demanded. They had positioned extra agents outside her new safe house, to ensure that she didn't run, but obviously they had failed.

"Um, hello? Con artist here," she said. "I haven't been at this long, but I'm a fast learner."

She pulled up a chair and joined them all at the table.

"You really don't have a choice here. Demetri is in super puppy-dog love with me. He isn't going to stop until he has me back. I'd have handed myself over already, but this way we might actually be able to save your agent." Peter wondered how she could be so calm and collected knowing that her murderous boyfriend, whom she had just recently betrayed, was stopping at nothing to get her back.

"We've been through this." Hughes spoke up this time, trying to get some sense into her. "We give him what he wants and he'll shoot Neal anyway. That's not acceptable to us."

"Well, grumpy Gus, I happen to have an actual plan."

"Don't even bother - " Hughes began but was silenced by Rachel.

"Hear me out before interrupting please. Demetri wants to meet at the subway station right? That's cos he knows that place inside and out, all the back tunnels and maintenance areas that no-one else knows about - except maybe me. How do you think we got away from our heists so fast? You take me down there. You can have all the undercover agents you want working this job too. Demetri sees me, hands Neal over, and we take him down. Or in the unlikely event that Demetri did find someway to grab me, I can make a break for it down one of the tunnels. Either way, both me and Neal are free, and you have your guy. I'm not going back to that safe house, so whether you're with me or not, I'm going to that station."

It didn't sound like the best of plans but they had nothing else, and time was almost up.

"Well then," Hughes said. "We better get you fitted with a Kevlar vest. Peter, get SWAT down immediately and get all our agents on this. We've got about ten minutes or things are gonna go bust."

* * *

Arranging a hostage exchange in the busiest subway station in New York was ingenious and dangerous for both sides. The crowds meant there were more people to recognise Demetri, but then again there were so many people he could walk out relatively easily. For Peter, he could put as many undercover agents in as he wanted, but then the large influx of people meant the casualties could be huge.

Rachel and Peter had just entered the crowded terminal when Peters phone rang again.

"I want you to move to the centre of the terminal." Peter tried to hear any identifying sounds of where Demetri was standing but could hear none. "Stay on the line."

Peter did as he was told and stood protectively in front of Rachel. He scanned the crowds but couldn't see either Neal or Demetri. He held the phone against his shoulder and spoke into his two-way radio.

"Anyone see anything?" Everyone answered negative and Peter began to feel uneasy.

"You still there Demetri?" He was answered with silence and his heart pounded in his chest. Rachel, who was usually the epitome of calm, looked tense, though who could blame her, he thought. He spoke into his radio again.

"I think this is a setup. Everyone keep - "

He was interrupted when a gunshot echoed through the terminal, and all hell broke loose.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks again to anyone reading/reviewing this story. There's probably only a chapter left after this but I won't be able to update for at least two weeks (If anyone's still interested anyway!)

I know I've been keeping my flashbacks as short snippets, but there was no way I could do this one without any speech, so it's a lot longer than other flashbacks. Apologies in advance if anyone thinks it ruins the tone of the story.

I don't own white collar or its characters!

* * *

_Peter wasn't sure what to expect as he made his way into the small country jail. He'd called the sheriff _

_on his way to the airport, advised him to keep a guard on Neal at all time, and asked him not to let Neal know that Peter was coming. Neal had been arrested after being involved in a bar fight, which started over a woman apparently, but would be released in the morning and no one was going to be pursuing a trial. He wondered what had attracted Neal to this small, middle of nowhere town, but was sure the answer was something illegal. _

_Peter watched Neal through the two way mirror in the small interview room, and barley recognised him. Gone was the suit and tie, and the swagger, replaced with a baggy hoody, worn jeans and trainers. His hair was styled differently, brushed over his forehead and making him appear years younger, which was probably his aim. Despite the baggy cloths, Peter could see how much weight he had lost, with his face gaunt and his eyes sunken and dark, one eye more than the other, probably bruised from his fight._

_Peter steeled himself and headed in to the room. Neal momentarily looked up, opening his mouth to speak before realising it was Peter, and he looked down focusing on the table, clamming up and clasping his hands on his knees. Peter had expected as much._

"_Hi Neal." He sat down opposite Neal and willed his partner to say something. "You're looking good. This must be 4 and O for me now. You're losing your touch."_

"_What are you doing here Peter?" His voice was soft and raspy, and broken, and he had yet to look up from the table._

_Peter thought of making light of the situation, but instead settled on the truth._

"_I'm here to take you home. Where you belong. We miss you, we all do."_

_Neal made a strange noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh, "I'm fine where I am."_

"_Really? The backwoods of nowhere? There's not much art for you to appreciate. Or steal."_

_Neal finally looked up and Peter could see that his blue eyes didn't appear sad or angry, they were just empty. He took a minute to compose himself before speaking, but he was beginning to appear unsure of himself, and Peter hoped he was finally breaking through the cracks._

"_This is it Peter, this is what I wanted. It's a nice town, with nice people. It mightn't have all the culture of the city but it'd be a good place to raise a family. I was actually born here, you know."_

_Peter nodded, listening intently as Neal spoke, though Neal's eyes had returned to the table. He knew nothing of Neal's childhood or his family, and not even Moz knew anything about Neal before he turned 16. _

"_I didn't grow up here though. My mom was just passing through when she went in to labour with me, so we only spent a few days here, but she used to speak about this place, how a place like this was her dream. She probably would have moved here, if my dad hadn't - "_

_He paused and looked up at Peter briefly as though he'd only just realised Peter was in the room._

"_In the few weeks before she died, she took me to all her favourite places, and she took me back here, just for a few days. She said all she wanted was to have given me a proper family, and she was sorry she didn't. Stupid, right? She was dying and she was apologising to me?"_

_His voice was breaking now, and his eyes were glistening, yet he would not cry._

"_All that time I was with Kate, I should have just stopped. This was my end goal - wife, kids, waking up to a newspaper on the front lawn and waving goodbye to the neighbours. But I screwed it up. I had to prove I was better than everyone, smarter. It was my fault Kate was murdered. And now I have nothing but a broken dream."_

_Neal was wringing his hands together, and Peter reached out and placed his hands over Neal's. _

"_You still have us. Me, El, Mozzie, June. Do you know how worried we were? How hard we've been looking for you? Heck, even Hughes went misty-eyed when he heard you'd done a runner." Neal pulled his hands from Peter's and backed away from the table._

"_I can't Peter. I can't go back and pretend like everything is ok because it's not. I'm not." Neal shook his head sadly. "You's are like family to me. But I'd rather never see you again, than let everyone see me like this - broken and pathetic."_

_He leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor. "I can't even flirt properly anymore."_

_Peter began to wonder what flirting had to do with anything, but instead got up of his chair and joined Neal on the dusty floor._

"_You're not broken or pathetic. You're just grieving. Everyone goes through it some time in their life. And that's what family's for - to see you at your worst and to help you through the hard times. There's probably a hallmark card that says it better, but you get my point."_

_They sat in silence for another while longer before Peter stood up and reached out his hand to Neal._

"_Come on, we better get going if we want to make it in time for El's spaghetti. And I gotta speak to the sherrif first about getting these charges dropped."_

_Neal looked at Peter with uncertainty before eventually reaching for his hand and let Peter help him up._

"_Maybe on the way home, I can even teach you how to flirt again." _

* * *

Neal was thankful that they had at least let him change his shirt. His old one was covered in blood stains and would have drawn too much attention to them, so he was now dressed in a shirt of Demetri's that was three sizes too big. Neal didn't really think the baseball hat and sunglasses they had disguised him with really covered up his injuries that well, but then again, this was New York, and so far no one had paid any attention to him with his swollen hands, and purple face. Frank had seen him struggling with the buttons on his new shirt and had been kind enough to not only help him button his shirt, but to manipulate his fingers back into position, though he could do nothing about his broken hand.

They had blindfolded Neal on the way to the station with Frank maintaining a steady grip on his shoulders, though from the smell of damp and dust, he guessed they were in a maintenance tunnel of the subway. They were now positioned between an alcove and a pillar, a few feet above the platform, and were basically hidden from prying eyes, waiting on Peter to show up with Rachel. He could practically feel Demetri vibrating beside him, and he knew things were not going to end well.

"There they are," Frank said, pointing to Rachel and Peter, who had just entered the terminal. Neal noticed the subtle changes in Frank's face and wondered if he too was in love with Rachel.

"Jesus, will you keep your hands down," Demetri roared back. "You might as well paint a bullseye on our backs."

Demetri moved position on their alcove, to get a better look at Peter, and pulled out his phone.

"I want you to move to the centre of the terminal. Stay on the line."

Peter and Rachel moved to the centre of the terminal and Demetri shoved the phone in his pocket, taking his gun from his waist band.

"Hey," Neal said. "No guns. This is a simple exchange, remember?"

"Sit there and shut up, Caffrey. This is none of your business. It's time to give this bitch what she deserves."

Neal was shocked by Demetri's sudden and complete change. He was aware that Frank seemed to feel the same way, and the hint of sadness that crossed his face confirmed Neal's suspicions that he was in love with Rachel.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Demetri gloated. "Did I con the con man?"

Neal remained silent, mainly because Demetri was right, and Neal felt like a fool.

"You've got a one track mind there, Neal. I plead love, and you fall in line." Demetri's voice became soft and quiet, which, Neal had realised, only ever brought trouble. "I knew from the moment I saw her being put in the police car that she was selling me down the river. It's the eyes - they're the window to the soul. But no-one was gonna hand her to me over if they knew I wanted to kill the little skank."

His face was cold and determined, and Neal knew he wasn't going to settle for anything other than Rachel's death. Neal frantically tried to come up with a plan when he heard Frank mutter behind him and loosen his grip on his shoulders.

"She deserves better than you," Frank shouted as he charged at Demetri, causing his first shot to hit the wall.

The shot echoed through the station and people began screaming, some taking cover on the terminal floor, while others scrambled to get out. Neal could see Peter in the middle of the terminal, motioning to what appeared to be other agents to get a terrified Rachel out of the station. He tried to shout to them but was drowned out by the screams and shouts of terrified commuters.

He turned round to Demetri just as Demetri managed to push Frank off him and put a round through his chest. As blood began to pour from Franks bullet wound Neal knelt beside him and tried to staunch the bleeding, but soon his hands were covered in Frank's blood.

"Why are you helping him?" Demetri laughed while now aiming the gun at Neal.

"Cos it's the decent thing to do." Frank's gripped Neal's blood soaked hand and discreetly handed him his mobile phone.

"Rachel….." Frank muttered between ragged breaths.

"I'll tell her you what you did for her," Neal said as Frank drew his last breath, and his hand went slack. Neal desperately tried to dial Peter's number, and shoved the phone into his pocket, hoping Demetri wouldn't notice.

"Your turn." Demetri grabbed Neal roughly by the collar of his shirt and jammed the gun into his back. Through the chaos and screaming, no one noticed them as they left the station and entered another dark tunnel.

* * *

As the gunshot echoed through the station, Peter motioned to the nearest agents to get Rachel out of there. She was frightened enough to let them lead her to a sheltered alcove, but she insisted she wasn't leaving until she helped find Neal. Peter had no idea where the shot had come from and couldn't see Neal or Demetri, but he prayed Neal was unhurt.

Demetri had hung up on him, but Peter was still carrying his phone is his hand when it began to ring again. He ducked behind a pillar to answer the call, fearing it was another trap, but was relieved to hear Neal's voice when he answered.

"I'll tell you what you did for her." Neal's voice sounded distant, and then all Peter could hear was muffled speech.

"Hey, I need a trace on this phone. Now," he yelled at Jones. "I think its Neal calling me, and hopefully we can track him."

"They're heading through a viaduct, just up ahead there," Jones replied as the trace ended, and located Neal.

"I'm going in after them. Jones, call Hughes and let him know what's happening. And find out where the hell SWAT are. Keep watching that system and let me know which way they're headed."

"Whoa, Peter. You're not going in there by yourself." Most of their agents were occupied trying to keep people from trampling each other as they fought to escape the station. "Hold on five minutes until the local cops get here and at least you'll have some back up."

"Neal mightn't have that long." Peter shook his head in regret and went to run off when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rachel was behind him, a small gun in her hands, indirectly aimed at Peter.

"If you're going after them, then so am I," she said, and this time Peter didn't dare argue.

Jones continued to monitor the computer tracking Neal's phone in real time, and gave directions to Peter and Rachel. The tunnel was dusty and empty, lit only by a few scattered overhead lights and was deathly quiet. They made their way along, keeping close to the wall, with their guns trained in front of them, stopping a few feet before a junction in the tracks.

"They've stopped moving," Jones said through Peter's small ear piece. "Take a right at this junction, and they're about one hundred feet ahead."

"Thanks," Peter whispered. "Jones,…..If I don't make it out of here -"

"You can tell her yourself when you get back to the office, boss. SWAT are setting up, they should be heading in in five."

Peter motioned for Rachel to wait behind while he checked things out ahead of them. He peered around the corner to find Neal standing in the middle of the tracks with his hands in the air, but Demetri was nowhere to be seen. He could barely make out Neal's features in the darkness, but he was sure his face was not supposed to be that shade of purple and red.

He appeared to be staring in Peter's general direction, but Peter doubted that he could see them as they were still hidden in the shadows. He turned back to Rachel, only to find that she had silently disappeared.

"Dammit," he whispered angrily into his radio. "Rachel's gone. Make sure SWAT know."

"Will do, boss," Jones replied. "Can you see Neal or Demetri."

"Neal's up ahead, just standing there with his hands up. I can't see Demetri, so I'm guessing it's a trap." He sighed wishing that for once they could catch a break with this guy, when he heard Demetris voice booming through the tunnel.

"How about a bit more incentive to come out of you hidey-hole, Agent Burke?" Demetri shouted as his gun blasted and Neal dropped to the floor.

"Neal!" Peter roared. Neal lay motionless on his side on the tracks, and Peter wanted nothing more than to run and help him but he remained in position, knowing he couldn't help Neal if he himself got shot too. "Man down! Jones, get SWAT in here now."

Demetri sauntered out of the shadows towards Neal but before Peter had managed to get a shot, he picked Neal up, slinging Neals arm across his shoulder, Neal's body facing his own and basically used Neal as a human shield.

Neal screamed in pain as Demetri held him, his legs occasionally buckling until Demetri pulled him into position again. Neal's back was towards Peter, and he could see the large blood stain that had already formed over the lower half of Neal's shirt.

"Let him go, Demetri. He's not part of this." Peter could make out some slight movement in the shadows behind Demetri and hoped that SWAT had finally arrived.

"Unfortunately he's collateral damage, Pete," Demetri seemed to be struggling now with holding Neal and keeping his gun aimed in Peter's direction. All he needed was for Neal to be out of the way for two seconds and he could get a clear shot.

"All I want is Rachel, and you can have whatever you want. You can have Caffrey, you can have my money, my jewellery. I need that bitch to suffer for what she did to me."

As Demetri continued to ramble on, Peter noticed that Neal's head was drooped further down onto Demetri's shoulder and he was covering one ear with his only free hand, and Peter began to worry that he may be suffering from a head injury from his beatings.

He only realised that he was protecting his ears when he saw Rachel sneak out of the shadows behind Demetri, and nod at Neal, before she placed the gun to Demetri's head and pulled the trigger.

"I suffered the whole time I was with you, you sick fuck," she said as she spat on Demetris now lifeless body.

Peter ran from the shadows and crouched down beside Neal, who had landed on his back.

"Neal, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes buddy?" Neal's eyes fluttered open but were unfocused, and he was covered in a light sweat despite his body feeling cold. His pulse was weak and his breathing was shallow but as least he was alive. His hands were swollen, obviously broken, and his face and chest were covered in bruises.

"Peter? I got…..I got shot."

"Neal I'm gonna roll you over and have a look at this wound, ok? Its gonna hurt a little but just bear with me."

Rachel sat down beside them and helped roll Neal onto his side. The bullet had hit him in the left side of his lower back just above the hip, and was bleeding heavily.

"Here, use this to put pressure on it," Rachel said as she took off her jacket.

"Peter, it's ok." Neal seemed to be using all of his strength to speak. "It.….It doesn't hurt any more"

If Neal had remained conscious he would have seen the look of concern that passed between Peter and Rachel at his comment, but as it was he found he could no longer keep his eyes open, and he wasn't sure if he ever would again.


	9. Chapter 9

Again, thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed this story. If anyone is even reading this chapter, sorry about the long wait, but between work and serious writer's block, it just took so long (I'm seriously having trouble getting the end of this written lol)

Sorry it's so short and the ending is quite abrupt. Probably only a chapter left after this.

I do not own white collar or its characters.

"_**It was a nice funeral," Peter said. "You did good by her."**_

_**They had rented a car and driven home from Ohio since Neal had left all legitimate ID back in Junes, and Peter really didn't want to have to deal with any upset at the airport if Neal's fake passport had been flagged . Peter was surprised when Neal asked if they could stop at the cemetery on the way, mainly because he didn't expect Neal to be so upfront about it. **_

_**As they reached the gate of the cemetery, Neal seemed to hesitate and so Peter had walked Neal to Kate's plot, but then stepped back to give him some privacy. June and El had taken great care of the plot for Neal, ensuring there were always fresh flowers, and that the no leaves or rubbish littered the newly grown grass. Neal had made a bunch of paper flowers on the journey home, which he now lay at Kate's grave. He crouched down beside her headstone, head bowed, and for the first time since Kate's death he cried.**_

Peter had come to hate the phrase _medically induced coma. Granted, it was not something he used in everyday conversation anyway, and he sincerely hoped he would never have to again, but so far in one day he had heard it spoken a dozen times and each time it sent chills up his spine. Whether it was for Neal's own benefit or not, a medically induced coma was still a coma._

_After Neal had lost consciousness in the tunnel, Peter had screamed so loud to get the medics in that he was sure they could hear him outside. Unfortunately, despite the quick response by the paramedics, manoeuvring a stretcher through a dark, dusty old tunnel was difficult and after stabilising Neal, there was a large delay in getting him out of the tunnel and into the hospital. _

_When they had finally made it to the hospital, Neal had been taken straight to surgery. Peter had spent the next few hours in a daze. He had immediately called El, who was now on her way home, and completed his statements for Hughes but he was darned if he could remember what he'd written. He was sitting, staring at his blood stained shoes, when the doctor finally called him._

"_Agent Burke? I'm Dr Majors. You're Mr Caffrey's next of kin?" the tall, middle aged doctor asked, as he shook Peter's hand._

"_We're not technically related but, yeah, I'm probably the only family he has." Peter had tried calling June and Moz, but had only reached both of their voicemails, and left them both basic messages, not wanting to frighten them with too much detail. "How is he, doc?" _

"_He's doing better than we expected." Peter sighed with relief as Dr Majors spoke. "The bullet nicked an artery, which caused some pretty major blood loss, but when we got that fixed and cleaned up the wound, we were pleasantly surprised to see that it had missed anything major. There's some muscle damage and he'll need physio to help that heal, but it missed his spine and his kidneys. He needed a blood transfusion but he's stable at the minute. He has a few cracked ribs and a punctured lung, so we've inserted a chest drain, and he's not strong enough to breathe by himself so he's still on the ventilator. We have him in a medically induced coma to keep him sedated but all things considered, we are pleased with his progress."_

_Peter thanked the doctor, continuously shaking his hand, until Dr Majors forcibly took his hand away. _

"_You can go in and see him if you want. I'll warn you, though, that he probably looks a lot worse than he really is. And his right hand is badly broken, and will likely require surgery, but not until he's recovered a little from his other injuries."_

_Peter thanked the doctor again and cautiously stepped into Neal's room. Despite being warned that Neal would look unwell, Peter was still shocked by his appearance. He was three shades paler than usual, apart from his face which was deeply bruised and swollen. His right hand was bandaged and he was connected to countless wires and tubes, though the soft hiss of the ventilator and the beep of his heart monitor were oddly soothing. He sat down beside Neal's bed and gingerly held his hand. He didn't really think that Neal could hear or feel, but he'd seen on tv that you should always talk to the person in the coma anyway, though he wasn't expecting some kind of soap opera recovery. _

_He wanted to tell Neal that he would get through this, that Peter needed him to get through this. He wanted to tell him that those months when he disappeared after Kate's death were some of the worst of Peter's life. He wanted to tell him not to give up the fight, that Peter needed him to fight this, you are my best friend after all._

_Instead all he could manage was "You better get well soon, Neal" and he mentally kicked himself. _

"_It's okay, honey, I'm sure he knows what you really mean." Peter turned around to see his beautiful wife in the doorway of Neal's room, and he quickly embraced her._

"_God, El. I didn't think you'd make it back so soon. Things aren't…Neal….he just looks so ill, El." El hugged him tighter as his tears fell silently._

"_Mozzie, will you please sit down. You're making me dizzy." _

_Mozzie politely declined Els fifth offer of a seat and continued pacing around Neal's room. ICU usually only allowed two visitors at a time, but Peter used some of his FBI persuasion to allow Mozzie and June to visit also, and they had barely left Neal's side in two days. The doctors had felt that Neal had been sedated for long enough and had stopped his sedatives that morning with the hope that they could take him off the ventilator when he woke up. However, they were unsure how long it would take for Neal to regain consciousness and his friends all wanted to be there for him when he woke. El, June and Peter sat patiently around Neal's bed while Moz paced furiously around the room, giving them all a lecture on the entire history of modern art. Peter had expected a lot of resentment from Moz, who usually blamed him when something happened to Neal in the line of duty, but then again, after everything that had happened in the past year, Moz was just glad that Neal was still alive._

"…_.and that's why he was always Neal's favourite artist. And in the years that followed - Neal's waking up. He's waking up." Mozzie bounded over to Neal's bed and El gently pulled him back._

"_Give him a bit of room, Moz." She gently squeezed his hand and he looked at her curiously._

"_El, I told you before - not while your husband is in the room, you're going to get us caught."_

"_You wish you were that lucky, Haversham," Peter replied with a smile that didn't fully reach his eyes._

_Neal's eyes were open, but were still glassy and unfocused. He gently touched the ET tube and tried to sit up, appearing startled when all three of his visitors rushed to keep him in bed._

"_Whoa, buddy, just stay where you are ok? I don't think you're ready to sit up just yet," Peter said, as he motioned for El to fetch the doctor. "Do you remember what happened?"_

_Neal nodded gently and pointed at the ET tube. _

"_The bullet really only did muscle damage, but you had a few broken ribs which punctured your lung when you fell after getting shot. They think they can take this tube out today if you're feeling up to it."_

_Neal nodded again and then pointed at his right hand which was still heavily bandaged. _

"_It's badly broken, but they wanted to wait until you were better before doing any surgery for it." He didn't want to upset Neal with the news that the doctor was unsure if he would ever regain full use of his hand, and Neal could always tell when he was lying, so he was glad that his one sided conversation was interrupted when the doctor entered the room. _

"_Mr Caffrey, good to see those eyes open for a change. How are you feeling?" _

_Neal motioned OK though a fine sheen of sweat had developed over his face and chest since he had regained consciousness. _

"_If you're feeling up to it we can remove this ET tube, though the chest drain in the side there will have to stay for another few days." Neal nodded in agreement. "That's great. You'll probably be quite hoarse after this but that should settle. If you folks could give us a while, there's some good coffee in the canteen."_

_Having already tasted the hospital coffee, they knew that this was a lie, but reluctantly took their leave. June and El each kissed Neal on the cheek, then each took an arm and walked Moz out of the room. Peter gently squeezed Neal's shoulder and stepped out. He was glad Neal was alive, but after everything Neal had been through the past year, he was worried that this would be another major set back, and he really didn't know if Neal could bounce back this time._


	10. Chapter 10

Apologies for the mammoth gap in finishing this. It was basically abandoned in this last chapter, then a review kind of spurred me on to complete this. Please remember that most of this story was written and uploaded before season two aired and most of this chapter was written before season 2 aired also, so there may be differences between this and the show. Thanks again to all readers/reviewers.

I do not own white collar or its characters.

XXXX

Three days after being extubated, Neal was fit enough to get out of bed for physiotherapy. He was still quite weak but the doctors were keen for him to mobilise as soon as possible, and he himself was getting sick of seeing the same four walls. His chest drain had been removed, his face was less swollen and the bruising had changed to an off-yellow colour, making him appear as though he had had a bad encounter with a spray tan. They had scheduled him for surgery on his hand in another two days, though he was trying to think about that as little as possible, knowing that there was a small possibility that he would never regain full use of his hand. He still needed to use a stick to walk the length of the corridor, but he was quietly confident that he would be able to walk unaided by the time he was discharged, and all in all, he felt he was coping well.

However, the same could not be said for Peter. Peter looked more tired than Neal felt, he appeared constantly stressed, and when he wasn't at the office, he spent his remaining time at the hospital, often staying long after visiting hours had ended. It was not that Neal wasn't grateful for Peter's company, but he hated seeing his friend so on edge. He knew that Peter felt guilty about him being wounded but Neal couldn't help but feel there was more to his constant presence than guilt.

"How you feeling now, Neal? I brought in a couple of books for you - they're oldies but goodies," Peter said as he entered Neal's room for his third visit that day. "And El made you another salad since you've barely been eating the food they give you here."

"Thanks," Neal said as Peter opened the container for him and pulled out some sandwiches for himself. "But Peter, do you realise what time it is? Shouldn't you be having dinner at home. With your wife."

"We had an early meal today," Peter said between bites. "Why? Are you expecting someone?"

"No," Neal replied honestly. He could count on one hand the number of people who visited him, and they had fallen into a routine of visitation that he could almost time them to the minute.

"But, Peter, you spend more time at here than you do at home. I don't want to be responsible for the break up of your marriage - think of the rumours that would go around the office if people heard your wife had left you because of me."

He winked at Peter who was almost choking on his food at the suggestion.

"Funny, Neal," Peter put aside his food, and sat forward in his chair. "I just like to make sure you're ok. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Peter, I'm doing great. They think I should be out a few days after the surgery to fix this damn hand." He held up his hand which was in a temporary cast until his surgery.

"I know, Neal. I just…"

"Want to make sure I don't run? Peter, I can barely walk up the corridor and I can't hold a pencil never mind make a fake ID. I know you don't think I've made much progress, but I'm not the same person I was a few months ago. I love Kate with all my heart, and her death is always going to be a big part of me, but after everything that's happened, I kind of know where I fit in the grand scheme of things now."

"Did you just get a dose of morphine?"

"Yeah," Neal laughed, his words slightly slurred. "I think it's just hitting me."

"Peter," Neal said as he grabbed Peter's arm. "You've got to believe me though. I promise you - and I don't make promises lightly - I won't run. Without giving prior warning anyway."

Peter packed up his things as Neal closed his eyes and began to drift off to sleep. As he left the room he stole a glance at his now deeply asleep partner and tried to decide which of the two of them had the trust issues.

XXXX

Rachel had become a ghost. In the chaos in the tunnel after Neal had been shot, she had managed to slip away unnoticed down a back tunnel and had not been heard from or seen since. That was until Peter dragged himself into his office one morning to find her already sitting at his desk.

"How the hell do you do that? I'm going to have to have a word with the security team if you can manage to get in here twice." He threw his briefcase on the table and sat down opposite Rachel.

"Oh, I see someone's not a morning person. Good thing I brought you coffee," she said as she passed him a large cup and a muffin.

" I don't usually accept things from criminals," he said as he dumped it in the waste basket.

"Except Caffrey." She put her hands up in peace, and continued speaking anyway, hoping to stave off a tirade from Peter. "I hear he's doing good and that he'll hopefully be out soon."

Peter stared at her, exasperated but not surprised. She simply shrugged back, "I keep my ears to the ground."

"Yeah, his hand's holding up nicely, he's getting around now. He's doing great actually." Rubbing his hands over his face, Peter suddenly felt tired. "I guess now would be the time to thank you. From Neal, of course. He's grateful you saved him."

"Well, tell Neal I'm sorry that he ended up in this situation in the first place." She never let her eyes drift from Peter's.

"What do you want, Rachel."

"I don't know. I just wanted to chat I guess." She began fidgeting in her chair. "I mean, it's not like I have anyone else to talk to. After the tunnel - when I ran, I realised I didn't have anywhere to go. I'd already alienated all my friends."

Peter sighed. He began to wonder how and when he had become the therapist of the criminal world.

"I murdered my boyfriend," Rachel suddenly blurted out. "I mean, I know I had no other choice, and Demetri _was_ trying to kill me. But I'm not that person…I always thought I wasn't that person.."

"It wasn't murder Rachel. Our office has cleared you on that and the case is closed. You saved Neal's life, your own and you probably saved my life cos Demetri was hell bent on taking us all out. I only wish I could have taken him down myself."

A few silent tears trickled down her face and she gratefully accepted a tissue from Peter. He hated it when a woman cried, and didn't know what to do or say, never mind that this woman was a criminal indirectly involved with the near death of his partner. But as El kept constantly reminding him, she had been partly blinded by love.

"You made a mistake," he said as she rolled her eyes. "Ok, a few mistakes. But you're luckier than most - you're not in jail for a start. Your deal still stands and you have immunity, though I could probably wrangle up a new charge for trespassing onto FBI premises again.

"And see this Rachel - these tears, this guilt…It's good. It shows you still give a damn. And you take it and you use it and you make a better life."

"You should have been on the pep squad in school." Rachel's tears quickly dried up and her face was set with a new resolve. "I really am sorry, Peter. Tell Neal I hope he gets better soon."

He just hoped she heeded his advice.

XXXX

It had been almost one week since he had been discharged from hospital before Peter decided he needed to have a heart to heart with Neal. Neal was a good listener, usually gave good advice, _though could never take his own_, and was a great conversationalist, but a discussion about private matters made him nervous and before Peter spoke, Neal was already squirming in his seat.

"So. How are you doing?" Peter asked over their morning coffee. Peter was back at work now, but Neal still needed more recuperation before they'd let him go back, though Peter joined Neal every morning for coffee before work.

"I'm doing great. Same as when you asked me this morning, same as when you asked last night, same as the day before." He smiled as he spoke to reassure Peter that he was _fine_.

"That's good. You taking your pain meds? June said she had to force them into you."

"I take some of them. Some of them loosen me up a bit too much." He could remember some conversations from the hospital, from the early days when he was in too much pain to argue with them about morphine. "But the pain is good, it's settling, I mean."

Peter didn't point out that Neal grimaced when he shifted a fraction in his seat, or that he was barely using his injured hand, despite the doctors saying that everything went well and the prognosis was good.

"That's good." He took another sip of his coffee. "Neal, I - "

"It's ok, Peter. I know what you're going to say, and you don't have to. It wasn't your fault I got shot, just like it wasn't your fault Agent Marks got killed either. I'm fine, you're fine, Demetri's gone."

"I know but I - "

"Okay, so my hip aches on occasion and I still need to walk with a stick but I think it makes me look good, right? Gives me an edge."

Recognising Neal's nervous chatter, Peter tried to get a word in.

"Stop, Neal. Just listen for a second. I know you are doing well - "

"I'm doing great."

"Ok, you're doing great. But I just worry about you. After Kate, and after you ran when she died….those were some pretty bad months for us all. And then when I brought you back, I guess I was just glad to have you back that I never really spoke to you about any of it unless we had to, because I was worried that I'd send you running away again. But if you think we didn't notice how depressed you became you're wrong."

"Peter, I'm not…I wasn't depressed." His voice was soft and broken, and he avoided looking at Peter.

"Hey it's nothing to be embarrassed about Neal. I'm sure we've all been through some form of it, and you have good reason too. But I guess my point is that I kind of brushed over it, you know. I saw it but ignored it in case I lost you again, just hoped it would pass. And now with all this- the beating, being shot - I'm just worried that you're going to sink deeper and deeper."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but talk to Mozzie or El or June. Or if that's too personal, a therapist. Not the FBI sanctioned guys, someone else independent if you want. But Neal, if you don't talk about this, it's going to eat you up inside."

They were silent for a few minutes while Neal regained his composure and Peter pretended to read the newspaper.

"Did anyone ever tell you you'd make a good shrink Peter?"

XXXX

_They held a service at Kate's graveside on the one year anniversary of her death. There were only a few people in attendance, and of those few only three of them had known her while she lived. It saddened Neal to think that so few people had known or cared for her, and that on his death he would expect even fewer still at his funeral. _

_He had not been at Kate's funeral last year, running scared from his failures, his loneliness. But now he stood surrounded by his partner, his friends, as they said a few prayers, a few thanks for what they still had. And afterwards they would have dinner together, and a few glasses of wine. And tomorrow he would he get up and go to work, then he and June had tickets to the theatre. And life goes on._


End file.
